Triumphs and Tribulations
by AlanSmithy
Summary: I sit back in the obsidian throne I conjured earlier and smile. The day I have been waiting for--no, the day I have been hungering for--is here at last.


Triumphs and Tribulations:

The Final Victory of the Dark Lord

A/N:  Originally I was going to post this as one complete story, but I am having a spot of trouble deciding between two endings.  Let me know what you think so far, and depending on the response I get, I will decide how to end the story.  Oh, by the way, I was in a dark mood when I wrote this, and it has not yet been beta'ed.  If anyone is up for the job, email me at dracomagus43@hotmail.com.  Also, this is my first time writing in first person, so I would like to know how I did ;).

PART ONE:  DECISIONS, DECISIONS... 

            I sit back in the obsidian throne I conjured earlier and smile.  My fingers obsessively caress the head of the snake curled around my feet as I survey the scene in front of me.  It's here at last.  The day I have been waiting for—no, the day I have been _hungering_ for—is here at last.

            My slaves, those who joined me willingly and those who had to be…_persuaded_, are arrayed at the perimeter of what is now my throne room.  My smile widens as I look around what was once considered the most secure building in all England.  _And what has it become now?_ I ask myself.  I chuckle.  No, I laugh.  I laugh long and hard, like I have not done since… _before_.  It feels good.

             Soon enough I calm down.  I still have business to conduct, and it would not do to lose control before the end.  I force my mirth to the back of my mind and glance around the room again.  It has not changed these fifty some odd years since I last saw it.  I was much younger then, a boy really.  Smiling, I remember that I was a prefect.  Oh, my old Headmaster would be turning in his grave if he knew of my triumphant return!  Of course, there were a few differences since I last sat here as a student.  The four house tables are now nothing more than four smoldering piles of ash, and the staff table…well, the only member of the staff that would ever need a seat again is kneeling in front of me bound and gagged.  His once proud countenance finally humbled in the few moments remaining before his death.

            I laugh again.  I cannot help it!  I am so close to my goal of the past half century that I can practically taste it.  But I digress.  I am not finished yet.  I settle back into my throne and glance around the room again, pleased with what I see.

            In the middle of the chamber are ten stone altars that were specially crafted by the Runesmiths I converted.  They are arranged in a geometrically perfect nine pointed star, with the tenth located in the exact center of the powerful symbol.  All of the altars but one are currently occupied by my most hated enemies—the ones that still live anyway.  They struggle unsuccessfully against their bonds, both magical and mundane.  I have learned my lesson.  I do not rely solely on the power of my magic anymore, and I must admit, some Muggles are fairly ingenious when it comes to inflicting physical punishment.

            The ninth, empty, point is directed toward my throne.  Empty.  Waiting.  I think I have waited long enough.  There is no point in being too dramatic.

            At my command, Nagini uncoils herself as I stand, towering over the room from the platform upon which my throne rests.  I walk towards the form at the base of the platform and look down upon it in disgust.  Old.  Broken.  Not a trace left of the strength which fought against me for so many long years.  My nemesis lay at my feet, unable to move.

            "Stand."

            My voice carries behind it the weight of magic.  He has no power left to resist, so his body is jerked roughly upright.  The chains that bind him clink together at the sudden movement and the noise echoes through the chamber.  I look into his eyes, those ice cold blue eyes that will never twinkle again.  He should not have resisted me, and he knows it.  Those eyes that once shone with defiance are now glazed over as the decrepit wizard looks up at my face.  The face of his master.

            "You see?" I hiss menacingly.  "You see what your resistance has brought about?  What do you have left?  Nothing!  What have you gained?  Nothing!  You are finished, old man.  Your reign has ended.  You may have delayed the events that were set in motion seventeen years ago, but you could not stop them."  I smile.  "It is inevitable."

            He does not respond, but merely stares up into my eyes with a look of profound remorse and…pity?  Is that pity?  By what right does he pity me?  Me!  I will teach him a lesson!  He will feel pain beyond…no.  Not yet.  I need him still.  As much as it irritates me to keep him alive, I need him.  I must be patient.

            With a wave of my hand his body is propelled through the air and is bound to the final altar, completing the array.  Another gesture and the torches extinguish themselves.  The only illumination comes from the full moon that glares down through the broken ceiling.  I tilt my head back and smile.  Now that was fun!  Tearing down the pride of the school is a memory that I will carry with me forever.  No more would the enchanted ceiling imitate the skies outside.  No, the Great Hall will forevermore be exposed to the elements themselves.  A little more exciting in my opinion.

            I reluctantly pull myself back to the present.  There will be plenty of time to reminisce later.  I walk in a circle around the altars.  Slowly.  There is no point in rushing.  There is no one left to resist me.  I have all the time in the world.  

            I stop at each altar, staring down at my honored guests in turn.  They all stare back at me.  They have no other choice.  I will not let them look away.  I want to see what is in their eyes.  It was said once that the eyes are the gateway to the soul.  I now know this to be true.  I want to understand the souls of these people who challenge me.

            I see fear.  Oh yes, plenty of fear, but that is not all.  Defiance.  Even after all this time they still try to resist?  Determination…how extraordinary.  Hope.

            Hope?  I smile.  That will disappear shortly.  Once I begin the ceremony there will be nothing for them to hope for but death.

            Slowly, ever so slowly, I walk towards the center altar.  I come up from behind, where he cannot see me.  I pause near his head and reach out to touch the scar that cuts across his forehead.  He cringes in pain at my caress.  I smile again, for I only feel a slight tingling in my finger.  I withdraw my hand.  I want him coherent.

            "So, Harry.  Here we are at last."

            No response.  There is no fear in these eyes, only anger.  Ah yes!  Anger.  Now that I can relate to.

            "You should have known it would come to this.  Did you really think that fool Dumbledore could protect you?  Look at him now."

            Those eyes never leave mine, never waiver.  I am becoming angry.

            "LOOK!"

            He does.  The force behind my command leaves him no choice.  But his expression does not change.  In fact, it hardens.  I can feel his anger radiating off him in waves.  The power he possesses!  If only the fool would use it, he could be my highest general, the pride of my army!  But he is too noble.  Too much like that fool he worships.

            "Look at him," I whisper in his ear.  "He is broken, finished, defeated.  There is nothing left of the wizard that once defeated the great Grindelwald.  Your Headmaster has already given up.  He knows I have won!"

            Something is happening.  The power I can sense emanating from Harry begins to diminish.  He is calming, his expression softening.  He looks up at me now with the same emotion I saw in Dumbledore's eyes earlier.  Pity.

            Pity!  Why do they feel I need their pity?  Me!  I nearly fall prey to my urges and strike him down, but I restrain myself.  I need him.  I need them all.

            "Well, Harry.  I think it is now time for me to give you a little present."

            I reach into my robes and pull out the object I had toiled so long to create.  I grasp it by the silver handle, and hold it up so that the moonlight gleams along its length.

            "Does it look familiar Harry?"  No reaction.  I smile.  "It should.  I made this dagger out of the fang of a basilisk."

            A look of recognition passes across his features.

            "Yes, Harry.  It is from the same basilisk that you killed down in the Chamber of Secrets.  You see, an amazing trait of the basilisk is that no matter how long it has been dead, its poison retains its potency.  I went down into the Chamber and carefully removed this tooth along with the attached venom sac.  It is now going to be the instrument which will help me send each of your friends into the afterlife."

            For the first time he speaks.  "You call that a present?"  He can barely choke out the words.

            My smile widens.  I cannot help but taunt him.  It is my nature.  "Oh no, Harry.  This is not the present."  I wave my hand and the altar upon which he rests begins to rotate.  "My present to you is choice…the choice of the order in which they will die."

            The altar turns in a full circle, allowing him to look at his nine companions in turn, each bound to an altar.  I can't see the expression on his face, but I can sense his emotions.  Horror.  Abject terror.  I shiver in pleasure as I soak in his fear.  My spies have done their job well.  He really does feel responsible for these poor souls.  Interesting…

            I stop the altar when he is facing me again.  I move closer and reach towards him, running the edge of the dagger down his cheek.  He shudders.

            "So who will it be, Harry?"  He shakes his head.  I cannot stop smiling now.

            "What?  You cannot choose?  Here, allow me to help."

            I walk to the initial point of the star, fingering the amulet that hangs around my neck in anticipation.  I reach Dumbledore and stand behind him so that I am facing Harry.  I reach down and run the dagger along the old man's throat, and as I do so a gleeful thought runs through my mind.  Just a little pressure, just one nick, and the annoying old fool will be out of my life forever.

            "Yes," I look at Harry directly.  "Since you cannot choose Harry, I will choose for you."  I move away from Dumbledore and make my way counterclockwise to the next altar.  My face is calm and composed as I approach the chained man.  He does not struggle either.  He is resigned to his fate.

            I look down into his dark eyes and smile cruelly.  It is a smile this man has seen often, but rarely directed towards him.  No, he was too good of an actor.  "Severus Snape.  My dear, loyal…_traitor_."  I turn towards Harry again whose altar has shifted so he is facing me still.  "Should I kill him first Harry?  I know you two hold no great love for each other, but…ah, yes.  He did save your life last year did he not?  Too bad."  I shake my head in mock sympathy.  "Had he kept up the charade for one more year, he may have been able to warn you about this."  I walk away from Snape without looking back.  He would not be the first to die tonight.  I put the dagger back inside my robes.

            The next individual I approach, the first witch in the circle, struggles weakly against her bonds.  I squint and examine the magical energies that surround her carefully.  She has somehow managed to break through the magical bonds I placed on her earlier.  No matter, the chains still held tightly.  "Ah, Minerva McGonagall, Dumbledore's staunchest supporter."  I wave my hand and recast the spell to bind her to the altar.  I shake my finger in warning.  "You should not have done that.  I shall have to teach you a lesson now."  For the first time tonight I pull out my wand.  "You brought this on yourself, my dear.  _Crucio__!"___

            Her shrill screams echo through the chamber.  Sweet, sweet music to my ears.  I look around to gauge the reactions of my guests.  They are all cringing away in horror.  Only Harry is still watching her, his face starkly white with twin trails of tears etching a path down his cheeks.  After a few moments more I lift the curse and put my wand away.  She is old, and I do not want to kill her…yet.

            I conjure a cloth and gently wipe away the sweat that has beaded upon her brow.  "Poor Minerva.  I seem to remember that you swore to see Potter an Auror if it was the last thing you did.  You should not make promises that you cannot keep."  I walk away, fully aware that I will have to finish her soon, before her heart gives out on its own.

            I walk to the next altar, a little faster this time.  I am becoming impatient.  I force myself to walk slower, and glance over at Harry.  His altar is still rotating to follow me.  He is trying to mask his emotions, but to no avail.  I can practically smell his fear and disgust.  "Have you made up your mind yet Harry?  No?  Oh well, let us continue then."

            I look down as I approach the next altar.  "Neville Longbottom, how nice of you to join us tonight."  I smile as his eyes grow wide.  "You know, I had the pleasure of meeting your parents.  Four times.  In fact, I just visited them last night in St. Mungo's."  I reach into my robe and withdraw a chewing gum wrapper.  I hold it up for him to see.  "Your mother wanted you to have this."  I place the blood-soaked piece of foil on his chest.  He begins to shake.  "You know Neville," I continue, "You have cost me quite a lot in this war."  

            He is still shaking, but is now glaring at me, pure hatred radiating from his features.  "Good," he says.

            I am not smiling now.  "You took away my most loyal servant, my heaviest casualty in this war.  And the Prophesy.  You smashed my Prophesy boy."

            I spin around and glare at Harry.  "You did not think I forgot about the Prophesy, did you Harry?  No, no, I will know what it said.  Tonight.  Before the end."

            I stalk away towards the next altar breathing harshly.  I must stay calm.  I look at the occupant of this altar and pass him by with merely a word, "Fred."  I keep walking to the next individual and stop.  "And George Weasley."  I look back and forth between the identical brothers.  "Your family has caused me more grief than any other.  And you two, with your jokes and pranks, have annoyed me to no end."  I stalk towards Fred again.  "You were born moments before your twin, were you not?"  He nods mutely after glancing at his twin.  "So then, should you precede him to the grave, or would you rather follow?"  He does not answer.  I walk away.  "And you George, any preference?" I ask as I approach him.

            He nods.  I am surprised.  I did not expect an answer from him.  I lean closer in anticipation and jump back as he spits into my face.

            "GO GEORGE!" A voice bellows from my right.  And from my left.  And from behind me.  They are praising him.

            The nerve!  The gall!  I wipe the spittle away with the sleeve of my robes and glare at him.  My wand is suddenly in my hand and I begin my favorite curse.  "_Avada__ Ked-_" I stop myself just in time, and I see him glaring up at me triumphantly.

            "You," I snarl, "will die in agony, screaming for release from your pain."  I move away, sensing the triumph drain from his face.

            My anger has not diminished, but rather grown.  I take it out on the next person I see.  "Another Weasley."  I glare down at the red-haired youth.  "Ron is it?"  He glares at me.  "Yes, Wormtail has told me all about you."

            "WORMTAIL!" He bellows.  "Where is that rat?  I'll teach him a lesson, he should have never posed as my pet!  That-"

            With a wave of my hand, his voice is gone.  He cannot mutter a sound.  I smile down at him.  "Yes, you were always the one with the temper, and one of the famous Hogwarts Trio no less."  I turn my head to see Harry struggling against the chains that hold him down.  I laugh in amusement and turn to my next guest.  "And here lies another one of the Three."  I pause and smile at my own joke.  "That sounds like a wonderful epitaph, does it not, Harry?  _Here lies the Mudblood, Last of the Famous Three!_"  At my comment, Ron struggles even harder against his bonds.  I laugh as I walk away from her, towards the last unwilling participant in my ceremony.  She has been uncharacteristically quiet so far.

            I stand in front of her.  She seems so small and vulnerable, but her eyes tell another story.  I can sense the power she holds, almost as great as Harry's.  I smile.  "Hello again, Ginny.  It has been a while, has it not?"  She does not answer.  "Have I changed?  Lucius tells me that you met my younger self."  I withdraw the basilisk's tooth again.  She shudders.  "Do you recognize this?"  She nods and calmly speaks.  "Yes Tom, I do."

            Anger swells up inside me.  How dare she?  How dare she use my filthy father's name?  I will teach her a lesson!  She will learn to respect me!  I draw my hand back and slap her across the face.  I step back in shock.  I have not lowered myself to physical violence for a long time, yet with four words this slip of a girl provokes me to do so.

            Slowly, I become aware of Harry's screams.  He started yelling at me when I hit the girl, but I was too distracted by my own thoughts to notice.  I begin to register what he has been saying.

            "DON'T YOU TOUCH HER, YOU BASTARD!  LEAVE HER ALONE!  YOU AREN'T WORTHY ENOUGH TO LOOK AT HER, OR SPEAK TO HER!  HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER!  YOU ANIMAL, YOU FU-"

            A wave of my hand and he begins to choke.  I wait until his coughing dies down before speaking.  "Well, Harry."  I smile widely.  "I guess you have decided after all!"  His eyes widen in horror as I withdraw the basilisk fang from my robes and slowly stalk towards the smallest Weasley.  


End file.
